


Fairy Tales

by Aifrit



Series: Apex Rarepair Week 2020 [2]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fights, Fist Fights, Rival Relationship, Rivalry, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Voidstrike, knife fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26844565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifrit/pseuds/Aifrit
Summary: No one understands why humanity has experienced the phenomenon of soulmates, but Wraith doesn't entirely believe it. Not until it happens to her.
Relationships: Bangalore | Anita Williams/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: Apex Rarepair Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955986
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Fairy Tales

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Fairy Tales  
> Pairing: Bangalore/Wraith (Voidstrike)  
> Rating: T for language and canon-typical violence  
> Prompt: Soulmate AU  
> Words: 1589  
> A/N: Written for Apex Rarepair Week on Tumblr. Enjoy!

Fairy tales are bullshit. They're stories. Childish conjurations. Not real, not worth fawning over. Wraith overhears the kids in Solace's streets-

_Baba, look, I'm a princess!_

_Will I ever find true love, Mama?_

-and rolls her eyes. Impossible to blame them, though. Naivety begets hope; maturity carves a path to clarity. Wake up in a white room with no memories to be put down like a dog and anyone would lose hope in humanity. Spend years listening to voices push and pull you out of harm's way and anyone would be plagued with nightmares.

Fairy tales. Are. Bullshit.

She's bound by science. By numbers and reasoning and hypotheses and theorems. By natural biology and astrophysics. Fairy tales don’t conform to science. But…

Humanity has endured this phenomenon for millennia, and nothing in science explains why it exists. Humanity accepts it. Wraith refuses.

The dropship rattles with turbulence as she sits and stares at her covered right forearm. The searing pain has been unbearable lately. Burns like a hot cattle prod. When she balls her fist, it hurts. When she relaxes, it hurts. When she sleeps, it _hurts._

To the naked eye, there's nothing there. Everyone claims there is, but it’s a blank canvas of corded muscle and pale skin. Supposed to be a name there - a _soulmate_. Whatever it truly is, it's a thorn in her side, a nuisance that's grown more annoying the past few weeks.

Maybe it's the stress. Chaos has wracked the Games for weeks, Challengers growing more bloodthirsty and bold. The Legends have been overworked and underpaid. The Syndicate attempted to remedy the situation by contracting a new Legend. But what more can they do when the Outlands roars to be entertained? One fresh face can't solve the issue.

Wraith gazes up, scrutinizes the new recruit across the common area. "Bangalore" is what she goes by in the Games. She's tall and cocky, lean and muscular, knows how to handle a gun better than anyone here. Ex-military, Wraith surmises. Been on a squad with her a few times. She's helpful on the same team, but _god_ , her derision and ridicule cuts deep on opposition. So much that Wraith has developed a professional vendetta against her. The flyer-eyed Apex Games diehards gobbled it up immediately. Called it a bloody rivalry.

Bangalore leans against the wall, locks eyes, and tips her head. When Wraith scowls in response, she smirks and throws her a one-fingered salute.

Fuck you, too, Bangalore.

Maybe if she didn't shove her head so far up her own rectum, she wouldn't be over there clutching her ribs in visible discomfort. Word on the dropship is that a Longbow shot nicked her in the side during a bout with a Challenger her first week. Amateur. Can't let your guard down for that long, not in this arena. Wraith's learned that well the last two months she’s been under contract. Still, there’s a familiarity in the way Bangalore rubs her side with gentle fingers.

Whatever.

"Drop zone approaching!"

Soon enough, Wraith stands on the platform between Pathfinder and Mirage. Mirage pokes her in the ribs and cracks a dumb joke, but she pays him no mind. Glares daggers at Bangalore on the platform across from her.

Her arm pulsates.

When they land, it's in Thunderdome. No Challenger contests them for the landing spot. Loot is ripe for the picking and the throbbing subsides long enough to take advantage.

She flits through the desert sands towards Runoff where her team slays two stray Challengers. They're on a roll, bulldozing every team in their way as they trek muddy rivers and dusty, abandoned buildings to the next ring in Artillery.

Wraith checks her banner card. They've each acquired four kills to notch their guns. From the kill feed, she reads Bloodhound's name and the rest of their team falls in combat. Unlucky to be paired with one Challenger. Lifeline’s name scrolls up the obituary not long after.

"Hey, look at that. We're in the top three!" Pathfinder exclaims.

Wraith shakes her head as she steadies the Triple Take at her shoulder. From her perch at the top of the northeast building of Artillery, she holds a clear shot of anything within one hundred meters. "No celebrating yet. Still got a fight on our hands."

And sure enough they do. Both enemy teams roll into Artillery with all the subtlety of a creeping barrage. The last of the Challengers foolishly push from the south, and being pinched between Wraith and Mirage’s sniper fire and the last Legend team’s assault from the southwest tunnel, they’re met with an early trip back to the respawn chamber.

The Legend team approaches.

Wraith clicks her tongue as Mirage is shot down from his perch above her. He cries out in agony as he falls, back slamming concrete. Bangalore’s a sureshot and clever, she admits, using Gibraltar and his shield as cover.

Pathfinder grapple-swings in to shoot Gibraltar into the nearest wall, leaving Bangalore to disappear behind a cloud of smoke.

Wraith swears. She abandons Mirage, ignoring his plea for help, and rides the jump kit down from the roof. Pathfinder scouts from the rooftop of the west building. She lands, the crack of two gunshots reverberates through air, and Pathfinder drops immediately.

Fucking Bangalore. Of course she utilizes a threat scope behind smoke cover. Gotta play this safe. But… Bangalore steps out with her hands up. She saunters with a level of swagger Wraith’s never seen from any regular competitor. Anger and annoyance bubbles beneath the surface.

Her arm stings. Badly.

Fuck. Not _now_.

"Ayy, Wraith, come out here for a sec!" Bangalore yells. Her call echoes through the empty Artillery base. "Gun's down. Promise."

A hunk of metal clanks to the ground - a G7 Scout Wraith identifies through the lattice fence. Another gun follows. Prowler. She places her hands behind her head and stands out in the open.

Pathfinder and Mirage bicker in her ear at what to do; the Voices intermingle too much to decipher.

She rests the Triple Take at her shoulder, stalks forward into the open with the crosshair trained at Bangalore’s head. Would be so _easy_ to secure the win. So _easy_ to shoot her down, hold her face to the ground, and force her to eat shit. But she aches so terribly, trembles wrack her arm. Holding the rifle proves difficult.

Bangalore cracks her gloved knuckles and smirks. She wants to scrap. Wants a one-on-one. Fine. She'll get one.

Wraith throws her guns and readies her kunai as Bangalore pulls out a combat knife from the sheath on her shoulder.

They dance around one another. Swipe left, flutter back, dodge and thrust. Block, jab to the face, shoulder jam back. Bites her tongue, tastes pennies. Charge forward, downward slash, wrong guess. Kunai draws blood. Sparks with Void energy. _Hungers_.

Bangalore backs up, knife ready to guard. She huffs and puffs, shows off dexterity with a twirl and flip of her knife. "Not too bad, shorty."

Wraith scoffs. Heart races. Arm pulsates. No backing down.

The taller woman winces, hand at her favored ribs. Claws at them. "You feel that, don't you?"

"What?"

No time, no explanation. Another round. Sloppier, graceless. Not trying to kill. Shaky thrust, arm hurts like a bitch. Wobbly punch. Misses, recovers. Fake stab, front kick to the core. Air expels from Wraith's lungs, and she flies airborne to the ground. Bangalore mounts her.

This is it.

She tunes out Mirage and Pathfinder. The Voices badger her, scream at her to get up. Direct her.

_Block high. Move! Buck your hips! Left leg, right arm. Roll over!_

Prey.

Wraith glares down at her - out of breath, teeth bared, red dripping from her maw. The kunai imprints at Bangalore's throat. The blade begs for blood, a tiger fang eager to claim its kill.

Bangalore laughs. Coughs. Winces. Stares.

Wraith's arm burns like nine circles of fire and brimstone. She grimaces. It's _unbearable_.

"It _is_ you. Isn't it?" Bangalore whispers.

" _What_?"

She can't grip the kunai any longer. Hurts too much. The final press to Bangalore's neck draws blood, barely a trickle. The blade falls from her hand, clangs to the ground.

Wraith growls and groans, tears off her glove, rolls up her sleeve. Right on her arm, letters carve through her skin. _God_ , the agony. Experienced nothing like it before. The letters form a word.

Bangalore snickers. "Can't believe it. In pain for _weeks_ 'cause of you. Not the Longbow. _You_."

Wraith's thoughts from earlier rush back, the realization and epiphany smacks her like an open palm to the face. Her eyes widen as she glances from her arm to Bangalore and back again.

The word etched in her arm isn't just a word. It's a name:

_A N I T A_

Bangalore reaches down to lift the long shirt and black undershirt to her ribs. Right next to her upper abs? Wraith’s name. Unmistakeable. Undeniably hers. The dull throbbing and aching she’s endured the last few weeks? It was _Bangalore’s_ fault the entire time.

All the rage and fury and adrenaline coursing through her freezes. So this is what the revelation is like? _This_ is what a _soulmate_ is? Agony and confusion? Bloody and bruised and fangs at each other’s throats until the bitter end?

Huh.

Wraith laughs.

Whatever this is isn’t going to convince her to believe in childish fairy tales. But maybe, at the very least, she'll see this as another opportunity, another path.

Another road down the infinite possibilities of life.


End file.
